Documenting my travels on film connects me in a different way: it feels like meditating in motion. Each shot forces me to pause, to truly observe, and to make conscious decisions. And when I finally receive the photos, it's like opening a gift: moments that feel even more precious because they weren't immediate.

The feeling that everything is slipping away, that we're here today and we don't know about tomorrow. That idea haunts me, but instead of paralyzing me, it drives me to capture. I photograph so that the moment doesn't completely escape me, to remind myself that every second has meaning, even if I don't yet understand it.

I learned the value of spontaneity in my creative process. This project wasn't planned; I coordinated the session at the last minute, and it came together in just forty minutes. A meticulous plan isn't necessary to create something meaningful. 

Over time, everything begins to transform. Work that starts as one thing often changes course, points us in new directions, and, on more than one occasion, ends up being better than the initial idea.

Patience is key in everything, both in daily life and at work. You have to develop an eye for details that not everyone sees: that's what makes a professional.

In analog photography—like in the rock—what we commonly call "mistake" is actually part of its essence. I can't control everything, and this sport and the camera remind me of that: savoring the result of embracing the unknown. In part, it's about learning to unlearn.

The conversation behind my creative process stems from a question I was once asked in a seminar: to describe in a single phrase how I want my life to be. I replied that I would like to live near the sea, far from the crowds, creating without growing old.

I've been working on a personal "project" to return to what made me fall in love with photography in the first place: analog photography, a project of self-exploration and reconnection with a more innocent and intuitive perspective. 

In general, that exhibition and the comic are about doing more things, simply seeking to feel aligned with my work and my ideas and not depending on or seeking feedback from social networks or the internet.

I work on a zine, where I combine photography with thoughts. I learned to connect with words. Photography has been there for me since I was a child, but words have been harder for me to capture, and especially to share. 

The intimate and personal nature of the subject matter made both the recording and editing process light and honest. I found inspiration again, trusting the simplicity of letting go, and remembering that video is a bridge to connect with what truly resonates with me.

I've learned that exploring one's origins is incredibly powerful. There's a very strong and natural rush of energy in exploring one's roots. You discover things you didn't know before, but at the same time, when you discover them, they feel very familiar.

I've learned to value myself, to separate reality from fiction. A couple of the exhibitions I'm planning are a reinterpretation of previous expressions, a new version revisiting them from a different perspective.

A visual project that showcases the values ​​and world of Mexican boxing culture: faith, resilience, and community. I've continued to explore the possibilities of how to showcase its essence in the most authentic way. What began as a photographic series has evolved into a video.

Throughout this time, the great challenge has always been to develop an observation technique that allows me to capture moments stealthily and without altering the reality of those involved. I've found more and more confidence and freedom in doing so.

From the beginning, I was clear that photography shouldn't just be an accompaniment to the text, but a language of its own. My intention is for the project to be realized primarily in analog photography, given its ability to convey the passage of time, waiting, and chance.

I like to immerse myself in the smallest details, those textures and shapes that no one normally notices, but which, up close, become a silent language of nature. I love observing my surroundings, going for walks, and finding unexpected things to photograph.

I don't have to take photos just for the sake of taking them. We live in a world filled with digital files that we never see again, accumulating deep within algorithms or our devices. I've learned to take photos with intention and contemplation.

Analog photography has taught me not to want to control everything. In that lack of control, something of me expresses itself, something from the moment that sneaks in and transforms the image. No two photos are ever the same; the emotions of the moment inevitably influence the result.